19th/August/2023.
Some minutes past 8am. Panic! Total panic!!
Like a Nairobi lady who forgot to carry a sugar bag in her purse and the grey
skies are about to pour on her head. 110% panic! On my side. I am a writer and little
details (overlooked) get to me. I definitely was meant to be a writer, not a
politician – the devil is literary in the details.
Why the panic? You ask. A group of us – five
writers who responded to a call by one of us – were meant to get a stand at the
#KileFest by pooling our resources. However, due to unavoidable circumstances
(peculiarly Kenyan – the cliché), two of us pulled out at the 11th
hour. This meant that the three remaining members of our literary group had to
top up the deficit. Almost at zero, #HustlerFund comes to my rescue (thank you
GOK).
Some minutes past 8am, I am almost shutting
down. The guy booking a stand is yet to respond. Twenty minutes later, after
licking some glucose to get the energy to place a call to him, he reports on the
confusion… Anyway, at noon, I get to the venue… The stand has been secured,
shared by Books First… new found friends. I arrive in style – on foot, with a
sack full of my anthology, ‘A Funeral Dress for Nyasuguta.’ In contrast, high
end cars buzz about, with the obnoxious Probox, Premio, van and pickup
completing the picture.
Now, the salesman in me takes over. Years
back, after high school, I did a stint in sales and marketing. The first was in
marketing – supermarket merchandising. There was this company in the Upperhill
side of Bunyala Road, merchandising Protex and Colgate household products.
“Excuse me sir… Excuse me madam. Can I
please have a minute of your time please? Thank you. Today we are having a
promotion on Protex Herbal… It has chamomile… (and the other herbs I have
forgotten, such a long time since then) … Again. Thank you.”
“Habari yako ndugu. Tunakubadilishia line
yako ya Safaricom upate ile iko na M-Pesa.” Then, we were switching guys from
the initial black Safaricom line to the green one with M-Pesa in it. It was a
commission based job, so, sales people were really aggressive. That’s to say,
my self-confidence soared as a consequence of these jobs.
Now, as I was saying, the salesman in me
takes over. Mind you, Kileleshwa (from Kirichwa, the river – if I am not
mistaken) is this posh neighbourhood. Even Queen Jane – the Kikuyu Legend - sang
about it, “You always tell me that you want me and wants to buy me a house in
Kileleshwa,” – the English translation. Then, some sugar daddy wanted to corrupt
her, a young girl… I wonder how many Nairobi ladies can say no to such a
proposal nowadays.
“Excuse me sir… Excuse me madam… Please
have a peek at our book offerings… We even have an East African corner with
such titles as ‘A Funeral Dress for Nyasuguta’…’” A few sales are made, and I
direct them to Nuria, also representing Kenyan authors, for more variety of
Kenyan/East African/African writings.
The venue? St. Mary’s. The school of the
‘Who is who in Kenya’ from a certain era. We are talking children of
presidents, deputy presidents, ministers, industrialists… basically, the deep
state and the system, in local political parlance. Robert Alai, as the
principal organiser of the #KileFest, courtesy of being the ward rep, is
definitely on to something. You get the vibes that it could soon be an
international festival in years to come. Excellent community organisation
skills, you gotta credit the man even if you don’t always agree with his
politics.
The sun smiles at us; a welcome change of
weather that was the preceding chilly days. The air is fresh, and the
atmosphere congenial (will have to look up this word to see if it means what I
think it means)… we are now fast friends, these strangers that met on a
WhatsApp author’s forum. The business of the day? Market our books, and
hopefully, make some sales. Really, authors need to get training in sales and
marketing, that way, they can break that cliché of ‘the starving writer.’ Product.
People. Place. Promotion. Price. (Intellectual) Property. The 6Ps of things
books.
Now, as I said, there is something
presidential about Kileleshwa. The atmosphere? We’ve already addressed that.
Now on to the people. Ah! Beautiful people. Beautiful people created when God
wasn’t in a hurry. Chiselled and curved to perfection. Gifted with Delilah’s
smiles and Jezebel’s sultry voices. Posh in every which way. It’s a good day
for someone who is visual. Wonderfully created, Kileleshwa beings (...’tabia
zako sawa na sura yako’). Meaning I talk all of the English in me, even going
to the extent of speaking English of the noise.
It’s now afternoon. A perfect afternoon.
Not too sunny, a slight breeze, again… beautiful and wonderful people. A day
perfect for a wedding in lush gardens – the St. Mary’s grounds have that vibe
about them. Again, we thank Robert Alai for his excellent community
organisation skills. Why? Les Wanyika… ‘sikupenda kukuwacha uteseke nyumbani
pekee…’ The legends. The superstars. The zenith of ‘Zilizopendwa’. Evergreen
love and topical ballads. Live music that seduces and promises… a hint of
nostalgia. Again, the perfect afternoon.
As you can tell, as soon as Les Wanyika
took to stage, the business of selling books (and other products) was all but
forgotten. Les Wanyika is a once in a lifetime opportunity… again, thanks to
Robert Alai’s excellent organisation skills. We are all now grooving along to
the music, young and old, middle-aged and the unborn… for there is a very pregnant lady putting
most of us to shame with her ‘group of schools’ rhumba moves… Les Wanyika.
Bless them!
The upshot of the festival (from a writer’s
perspective)? There is a growing interest in Kenyan/East African authorship.
Then again, Kenyan/East African writers really need to put their works and
themselves out there, including collaborating with other Creatives if they are
to compete favourably with their West African brethren. The feeling being that,
for every good Kenyan book, there are ten excellent West African reads – Kenyan
author, don’t kill me, the messenger. I am just giving back customer feedback…
including to myself.
Again, that Les Wanyika tune that bids
farewell to a perfect day as the sun goes down… I box my collection, ‘A Funeral
Dress for Nyasuguta’, and sign off from duty.
(Meanwhile, get my short stories collection at: nuriakenya.com/product/a-fune)
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